


Rules Are Rules

by wrongfun (scumtrout)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Prison, post-book four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumtrout/pseuds/wrongfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The two of them don’t quite fit together, but Korra keeps a good grip on Kuvira to stop her from rolling off the side of the bed anyway.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules Are Rules

Korra tries to visit Kuvira’s cell at least once every three weeks or so. Tries, but doesn’t always quite manage it. There are never enough hours in the day and, horrible as it sounds, she has to prioritize. It’s not that Kuvira is unimportant; it’s that there are so many others who need Korra’s attention. And some of those people are (arguably) more entitled to Korra’s attention than Kuvira.

Korra does what she can, and brings Kuvira books and journals.

The visits were awkward at first because they didn’t know what to talk about. The only person they had in common was Suyin, and she… Well, it turned out that Suyin wasn’t a good topic of conversation. Over time, though, they managed to find subjects that are safe to discuss: technology, science, the spirit world, maybe even a tiny bit of politics. 

Occasionally, during their conversations, Korra feels like she’s a little out of her depth. Then she reminds herself that Kuvira isn’t necessarily smarter than she is, she’s just slightly more confident. Or she *seems* slightly more confident. If you’ve been in a position of authority for long enough, it must become a habit. Maybe it’s not self-belief that keeps your shoulders straight and your head held high, just muscle memory and survival instinct.

And, as the months pass, Kuvira seems to soften. Sometimes Korra catches her slouching. At first, Korra worries that it might be because prison is breaking Kuvira down. However, whenever Korra observes Kuvira talking to the guards, Kuvira is back to her old self: good posture, purposeful gestures, hard stare.

The prison guards seem to like Kuvira.

Heck, Korra likes her. It’s weird - and almost creepy - how some people can make you want their respect, even after you’ve seen them at their worst, yet Korra just feels grateful whenever Kuvira puts her hand on her shoulder.

She also feels grateful whenever Kuvira takes her right hand and gives it a small squeeze as they’re saying goodbye.

And when Kuvira eventually takes Korra’s hand and clasps it in both of hers, almost bringing it to her lips, Korra is left in a good mood for the next three days, even when a state official publicly insults her, she finds a press photographer hiding on her balcony, and Opal’s sky bison sneezes in her hair.

—

When autumn comes around, Kuvira has been in prison for well over a year, and Korra is able to incorporate her visits into her routine. She treads a familiar path to Kuvira’s cell; by now, she could probably navigate the prison with her eyes closed, just by listening to the echo of her footsteps. 

It’s not a bad place, as prisons go. The place is actually a converted United Forces cruiser, and the use of platinum in its construction makes it seem clean and bright despite its narrow corridors. Korra takes some small comfort in this, even though the thought of being locked up for years still makes her skin crawl.

She offers a nod to any guard she passes - she knows all their names, and she keeps an eye on the ones who strike her as being lazy or cruel - then pauses by Kuvira’s cell, taking a moment to run her fingers through her hair. There’s a peephole in the cell door that’s just large enough to reflect back Korra’s distorted image. Korra always gets the urge to earthbend the glass until it’s opaque.

Korra raps her knuckles on the door three times.

"Come in," Kuvira says. Korra pays close attention to the tone of her voice. She sounds… Okay. That’s all. Just okay. When Korra first started visiting, Kuvira found Korra’s habit of knocking on her cell door amusing, but the novelty of this kinda wore off a few months ago.

There’s already a guard standing to Korra’s left, brandishing a set of keys in her hands. The guard gives Korra a polite smile, and unlocks the cell door without fuss.

Kuvira is sitting on the bed with a book on her lap. She glances up as Korra steps inside. Her expression brightens.

"Can you give us some privacy for a while?" Korra asks the guard, looking back at her. Privacy is the most valuable thing she can offer, even if it’s only temporary.

The guard bows, and closes the door again. Korra expects the guard to obey her, although she still finds it a little weird that people now follow her orders without question. She gets given lot of leeway these days. This should be a good thing, yet it just makes Korra want to watch herself very carefully.

If she and Kuvira were still enemies, and Korra asked to be given privacy while she was in Kuvira’s cell, this would be a very different situation.

But Korra doesn’t dwell on that. The guards trust her, and Kuvira trusts her, and she (mostly) trusts herself. 

Kuvira stands up and crosses the cell in two strides, then clasps Korra’s right hand and gives her a slap on the shoulder.

Korra squeezes Kuvira’s hand in return, then quickly lets go.

—-

They exchange pleasantries. Or rather, Korra talks about the things she’s been up to, while Kuvira nods and listens intently. (Korra always asks how Kuvira is, and she always gets the same answer: ‘I’m alright’. Always the same words, delivered in the same way, quiet and resigned.) 

The two of them end up sitting on the bed. Kuvira hugs her knees against her chest, while Korra sits cross-legged, out of habit. While Korra talks, she makes a furtive study of Kuvira’s face, but Kuvira looks the same as usual. Somehow, Kuvira always manages to appear well-rested and freshly-scrubbed, even without makeup. She always looks like she’s someone’s sensible older sister. (Maybe she *was* someone’s sensible older sister once, but the Beifongs don’t talk about her much.) It’s easy to forget how she used to look in combat.

"…So, yeah, tonight I have another appointment with those guys from the United Republic Academy of Sciences," Korra says, and makes a face. "You know, the people I mentioned in my last letter?"

Kuvira raises her eyebrows. “It can’t be that bad, surely?”

"Those guys’d be okay if they weren’t so damn pushy about everything," Korra mutters. "I get what they’re trying to do. I’m okay with people making expeditions through the portal. But they keep trying to rush me, and whenever I tell them to back off and wait, they make try to make it into a political thing, like I want to spite them or something."

"You’ll always have detractors," Kuvira says.

"Yeah, but I’m trying to HELP these jerks. Their problem is that I’m not helping fast enough. And if they go through the portal and get eaten by shark worms or… whatever, then that’s going to be MY problem."

Kuvira smirks. “Make them sign a waiver of liability so you’re not obligated to help them if things go wrong. If something bad happens, they’ll serve as an example to others.”

"Ha," says Korra. "I don’t even know how that’d work. It’s not like *my* obligations are all that clearly defined to begin with."

Kuvira points at her. “Perhaps,” she says, utterly deadpan, “you need a spirit lawyer.”

Korra doesn’t know if she should laugh. “Well, uh. I think I’m meant to be my own spirit lawyer.”

Kuvira fidgets and changes position until her posture mirrors Korra’s own. “Then perhaps you should set out some clear rules about what you can and cannot do, otherwise people will keep trying to push you. People exploit ambiguity.” 

Korra just turns down the corners of her mouth and recoils slightly.

Kuvira gives her a look that Korra has come to know quite well by now. It’s a look that says ‘I like you but you are actually a giant child’. “I’m suggesting that you set some boundaries, not pass legislation.”

"Hey, I can set boundaries just fine! It was just the way you phrased it that was… eesh."

"How so?"

"I…" Korra struggles to find the best way to put it, "…I don’t think the Avatar is meant to get too hung up on rules. From what I’m told, every Avatar has needed some, uh, wiggle room when it comes to that kind of thing."

Kuvira holds her breath and remains perfectly still for a moment, mulling over things, then says, “That sounds dangerous.”

"Yeah, maybe. But if I got too lawyer-y, it might not leave much leeway for the stuff that can’t be covered by rules, like…" Korra thinks. Kuvira’s going to want examples. "…Like, I don’t know, mercy. You can’t create a little rule that covers mercy. Or compassion. I need some space for, what do you call it, subjectivity?"

"Hm," says Kuvira, and gets an odd look on her face, even though Korra hasn’t really said anything particularly new or original.

"What?" Korra asks. Damn, and she thought she’d done an okay job of explaining herself just then. "I’ve got the White Lotus to hold me accountable for stuff, so it’s not like I can just do whatever I want without any consequences."

Kuvira’s expression becomes sardonic again. “And what rules do the White Lotus follow?”

Korra tilts her head back. “Ughhh. They have entire shelves of books saying what they should and shouldn’t do and I bet nobody actually reads those books anyhow. And if they said to me, ‘Avatar Korra, don’t do this thing!’ when I was trying to do what I thought was right, I’d just tell them to shove it anyway… Though that’d *really* piss them off.”

"Has an Avatar ever come into conflict with the White Lotus before?" Kuvira asks, quite innocently.

Korra stops herself from letting out a loud ‘HA! at that question. “Let me put it this way,” she intones, “there is always some dude in the White Lotus - some old dude, usually - who thinks I’m doing something wrong.” Everyone’s an expert on Avatar-ing except the Avatar herself, apparently.

"Yes, but," Kuvira leans forwards, "I’d expect that much. What I’m asking is: has an Avatar ever offended the White Lotus in a major way?"

"Oh, eh, I don’t know, the Avatar’s been around for much longer than the White Lotus anyway," Korra says, then realizes that she sort of referred to herself in third-person just then. "Why?"

"I think this is an interesting subject," Kuvira says.

"Well, the White Lotus mostly stays out of my hair, so I must be okay."

"And no one’s given you any trouble for the fact that you’ve been visiting me for months?" Kuvira asks, airing a concern that might’ve been festering for a while.

The question makes Korra want to draw a deep breath between her teeth. Maybe she should be surprised that it’s taken Kuvira so long to ask about that. 

"It’s not an issue," Korra says. Well, it’s not an issue to *her*, at least. Or at least, it *shouldn’t* be an issue. If other people want to make it an issue, then that’s their problem, and Kuvira shouldn’t worry about it.

Kuvira clearly isn’t buying that answer, because she fixes Korra with a hard stare.

"It’s not an issue with the White Lotus, anyway," Korra says. The White Lotus have been quite alright with the idea of Korra spending time with a war criminal. It’s been… other parties who’ve had a few problems with Korra’s choices concerning Kuvira.

"What, you’ve been worrying about that?" Korra asks. 

Kuvira shakes her head, and answers, “I enjoy your company, but I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

Korra snorts. “What, you think I’m gonna wake up one day and say, ‘oh no, visiting Kuvira is too much trouble, I’m going to just ditch her’? Do you think that’s something I’d do?”

"Of course not," Kuvira quickly replies. "I just appreciate that you have a lot of things to contend with at any given time, and-"

"Kuvira, I’m going to keep visiting you until I drop dead. And I’m going to write the next Avatar a little letter telling them to keep visiting you so that if I DO drop dead, I’ll still be able to see you. You can teach them earthbending." 

Kuvira has gone back to staring at her again. It’s unsettling.

"…And dance. You can teach them to dance," Korra adds, trying to play it casual. "Though I don’t know how that’ll work. Aang could dance, but I have two left feet, so maybe dancing ability skips a generation, and uh…"

Kuvira still stares.

"What?" Korra repeats. Kuvira sure does make her say ‘what?’ a lot. 

Without warning, Kuvira leans in and presses her mouth against Korra’s. It’s a simple kiss, and Kuvira keeps her mouth closed; there’s something almost chaste about it.

It takes Korra moment to realize that she should push Kuvira away. 

It’d be too easy for her to forget where she is, and who she’s meant to be. For just a second, there’s the illusion that they’re just two friends who were having a conversation that somehow turned into a declaration of love. 

Korra has to remind herself of the wider context.

She puts her hands on Kuvira’s shoulders and tries to be gentle. When that doesn’t work, Korra pushes harder. She could be angry, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s brought this on herself somehow.

Then Kuvira suddenly stops resisting, and sits back. She seems to study Korra’s reaction.

Korra touches her own lips. “Uh, Kuvira, wha-…”

Kuvira kisses her again, more aggressively this time. She’s shaking slightly, and her rapid breath is warm against Korra’s face.

Korra knows better than to push Kuvira away a second time. Her mind reels; she has to choose her reaction carefully, and she pays close attention to her own posture and movements, almost as if this is just a very strange sort of combat drill. She decides, slowly and deliberately, to turn her face from Kuvira. She rests her chin on Kuvira’s right shoulder, and puts her arms around the other woman. 

Kuvira doesn’t try to kiss her again. Her body slackens, and her arms rest at her sides.

"What’s wrong?" Korra asks, close to Kuvira’s ear.

Kuvira flinches, almost drawing away from Korra for a moment, then leans against her.

Korra pushes a lock of hair back behind Kuvira’s ear. “Kuvira?”

Kuvira shakes her head slightly.

"That bad, huh?" Korra mutters.

Kuvira rests her full weight against her.

They remain like that until Korra’s back starts to ache, and then Korra says, “Alright. This could be more comfortable. Here.” 

Korra lies on the bed narrow and carefully pulls Kuvira down alongside her. Kuvira doesn’t resist, though she does turn away from Korra so her back is against Korra’s chest.

Korra almost starts to stroke Kuvira’s hair, but she hesitates, and over-thinks things, and loses her nerve.

Her mind revisits old thoughts, retreading familiar paths: why, exactly, does Kuvira have her sympathy? Shouldn’t she save her sympathy for the people who suffered under Kuvira’s regime? But that’s supposing sympathy is a finite thing. *Is* sympathy a finite thing? Korra would like to say that it isn’t - she’d like to say that she’s capable of compassion for all living things, because that’s how it *should* be - but she’s still human, and she’s always studying her own limitations, testing them.

Kuvira pulls one of Korra’s arms around her. Her fingers are cool, and her grip is firm.

After a while, Korra says, “You know that if I’d kissed you back just then, it would’ve been a…” Ah, how should she phrase it? “…It would’ve been a dick move, right?”

Kuvira lets out a short, sharp laugh that makes her breath hitch. “I know.”

"I’m not rejecting you," Korra adds.

Kuvira doesn’t reply to that immediately, then repeats, “I know.” Her voice sounds utterly hollow.

Korra puffs out her cheeks and just thinks: sheesh. She’s saved Kuvira’s life, and yet she’s still not exempt from suspicion. But maybe it’s like… Sometimes, you can’t just do one thing for someone and then have them trust you forever. You have to prove your loyalty, over and over, and trust could still be withdrawn at any time. Is that fair? Probably not. But it’s just how some people are.

Kuvira could, potentially, be very hard work.

Korra pays close attention to Kuvira’s breathing. She knows better than to ask, ‘Are you crying?’

Korra tries to think of something to say, some reassurance she could offer. She could tell Kuvira that, one day, she’ll be out of here, and she won’t have to spend so much time alone, and she’ll forget how bad it was. But that just might make Kuvira dwell on the length of her sentence. And, worse, it might not even be true. There are a lot of crappy things you don’t forget. (And whether you *should* forget them is another problem entirely.)

No matter what she does, Kuvira will still be in prison (as she should be, which kind of makes this worse, in some ways), and Korra’s visits will still be infrequent.

Still, Korra has to say *something*, just to stop the silence from settling in and suffocating them both. And what she ends up saying is: “You’re actually a pretty good kisser.”

Kuvira is quiet for another twenty seconds. (Korra counts them.) Then she says, “I hope you’re not surprised by this.”

"What? No. You just have to be good at everything," Korra mutters. She keeps talking for talking’s sake. The past few years have taught her that there’s danger in long silences. "Did you practice kissing on your hand when you were young?"

Kuvira just doesn’t reply to that.

"Okay," Korra says. Actually, maybe she should shut up at this point, but she’s on a roll. "Don’t tell anyone this, but when I was twelve, I, uh, tried to practice on fruit."

Kuvira shifts her weight very slightly, takes a moment to dwell on this, and repeats, “Fruit.” The hollowness has now gone from her voice; she’s managed to find her armor and put it back on, so to speak.

"Yeah. I got the idea after eavesdropping on some of the guards who were talking about dating and stuff. I used to eavesdrop on people a lot. They said that you could practice kissing on peaches. Except that most of the time, all the fruit we had was canned. And… that’s the story of how I lost my first kiss to a pickled sea prune."

"Ah. I…" Kuvira begins, but can’t seem to make it any further than that.

"And yeah, I’m not sure why I just shared that with you."

"You are an ancient being of infinite power," Kuvira intones, "and I’m now imagining you… canoodling… with a dessert course."

"Yeah," Korra says. ‘Canoodling’. Kuvira said ‘canoodling’. "I, um. Yeah."

Kuvira holds her breath.

"I was a very lonely kid," Korra adds. (But not too lonely. She had her family. And Naga. Mostly Naga.)

"How do you…" Kuvira says, then seems to think better of it. 

Korra frees one of her hands so she can prod Kuvira in the shoulder with her index finger. “You can turn around and face me now, if you want. If you’re embarrassed about stuff, then fine, but *I* just told you about the time I kissed a prune, so you can’t look like a bigger dork than I do.”

Kuvira laughs again, very quietly. It’s the sort of laugh that sounds like it hurts. She doesn’t turn around.

And Korra’s left thinking: is this how I made others feel, whenever I was sad? Did I make them feel this useless? Not on purpose, of course, but…

A tiny, ugly, long-dormant bit of Korra’s brain wakes up, and says: Or maybe I’m just no good with people.

Kuvira’s a people-person, though.

Korra runs her finger between Kuvira’s shoulder blades. She remembers how, years ago, she’d just wanted to feel *needed* more than anything. She’d just wanted to be useful. “Hey.”

Kuvira lifts her head a little.

"I want you to write me a book," Korra says, because Kuvira’s always seemed like she might be good with that kind of thing.

"…What?" says Kuvira.

"I want you to write me a book on how to be a good leader."

Kuvira sits up, propping herself up on one arm, although she still keeps her back to Korra. “You’re already a good leader.” She sounds mildly affronted that Korra is implying otherwise.

"I’m okay. No one’s going to put my face on a shirt, though."

"Perhaps you shouldn’t have your face on a shirt," Kuvira mutters.

"Actually," Korra says, glad that she’s got a reaction, "Varrick wanted to sell little toy versions of me. They were going to have a little switch on their back that made them punch things. The eyes were meant to glow as well, but they never got that far. I still have the prototype."

Kuvira appears to mull over this. She rubs at her eyes, as if she’s just tired. Then she says, “That’s tasteless.”

"Enh, I don’t know, I just found the idea kind of weird. You want to know about tasteless? How about when Flameo Instant Noodles asked me to advertise their product."

"Hm," says Kuvira.

"I was going to take them up on their offer and make them donate money to charity in return, but the White Lotus freaked out and I didn’t want to get into a fight over it. Also I couldn’t say ‘noodliest noodles’ with a straight face." What the heck does ‘noodliest noodles’ even mean? Are the noodles more noodle-like than any other noodle? What is the essence of a noodle that makes it noodly?

Korra clears her throat. “So. Yeah. That book.”

Kuvira sounds darkly amused. “I wouldn’t put much stock in a book on leadership that was written by someone sitting in a prison cell.”

"Technically, it wasn’t your leadership that was ever an issue. People liked you." Or people liked Kuvira when she wasn’t trying to kill them, anyway.

"You do realize that writing *anything* requires a lot of self-reflection," Kuvira says.

"Well, maybe. I don’t know." 

"I don’t think I can stand any more self-reflection."

Korra sits up, and tries to keep the frustration out of her voice as she says, “Okay.”

"You’re a good leader," Kuvira reiterates, and makes it sound like some sort of order, as if being a good leader is just Korra’s job and she doesn’t get any say in the matter.

"Heh. Thanks." Korra isn’t about to argue the point.

Kuvira sits up properly, straightening her shoulders again, and now looks back at her. Her eyes still look damp, but she’s done a good job of composing herself.

"I’d like to apologize for my behavior today," Kuvira says, reverting back to gracious formality in a snap. Korra almost expects her to bow. "It was… inappropriate."

Korra NEARLY replies with, ‘well, I’ve forgiven you for worse.’ “It’s fine. Really.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Kuvira nods.

"Come here," Korra says, and holds her arms out.

Kuvira purses her lips, quickly looks over to the peephole in the cell door, then lets out an indignant little sigh and leans into Korra’s arms.

Korra pulls Kuvira back down on the bed again. For a prison bed, it’s not all that bad; it’s just a little too small to comfortably accommodate more than one person, so Kuvira ends up with her head tucked into the crook of Korra’s neck. 

The two of them don’t quite fit together, but Korra keeps a good grip on Kuvira to stop her from rolling off the side of the bed anyway.

It looks like Korra’s appointment with the jerks from the United Republic Academy of Sciences might be delayed.

—

Days later, while Kuvira is practicing earthbending forms, the hatch in the cell door opens, and guard pushes a cardboard box through the opening.

"Ma’am, package for you," the guard says. Kuvira recognizes the voice as belonging to Qian Li, who’s only been on this detail for two months, and has already managed to annoy the other guards by developing a penchant for whistling show tunes during the late shift. 

"Thank you," Kuvira says. She wanders over to the door and picks the box up. The label only shows her name, but she recognizes the big, curvy brush strokes as being Korra’s. Besides, it’s not like she gets packages from anyone else.

Inside the box is a crude little wooden figure of someone what’s presumably meant to be the Avatar; that is, it resembles a young woman with short hair, with clothes that are painted a gaudy blue. Kuvira turns the figure over in her hands. The joints are articulated, and there’s a button between the shoulders that makes the figure bring down its right arm in a chopping motion.

"This is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen," Kuvira says out loud.

"What is it?" Qian Li asks.

Kuvira puts the figure back inside the hatch, to show it to her.

The figure disappears for a moment as Qian Li takes it from the other side. There’s a thoughtful silence, and then Qian Li admits, apologetically, “I think it’s cute.”

Kuvira grimaces, since Qian Li can’t see her expression. “Really?”

"Yeah. Where did it come from? My daughter would love something like this."

"I think it might be one of a kind." And thank goodness for that. Kuvira takes a moment to consider what Korra would want, then says, "Your daughter can have it."

"Are you sure?" Qian Li asks. "Hmmmmm. Hm. I don’t know. No, it’s yours. Besides, rules are rules." Guards technically aren’t allowed to take things from inmates. Kuvira was being presumptuous by making the offer. 

Qian Li puts the figure back inside the hatch, where it stares at Kuvira with an expression that’s probably meant to be fierce and noble but actually just makes it look like it’s trying not to laugh.

Kuvira stands with her arms crossed, and eyes the figure for ten seconds or so. Then she sighs, and sets the figure atop a stack of books on the cell’s lone writing desk. The tiny Avatar presides over the realm of stationary. 

"That thing’s gonna have a heck of a resale value in 30 years," Qian Li says.

"I will keep that in mind," says Kuvira.


End file.
